


Psychic Fire

by rebel_without_a_cosmos



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Depression, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebel_without_a_cosmos/pseuds/rebel_without_a_cosmos
Summary: A small house fire. An empty attic. Repetitive nightmares.The house was huge and absolutely fucking haunted.Roxas moves into a real old house and finds some radical Paranormal Activity (TM) and has to figure out what to do with the ghost that used to live there.





	1. Prologue: Click

**Author's Note:**

> Is the title of this fic also a Love Live song?
> 
> Maybe so.

**Axel**

Have you ever just been really lonely? The kind of lonely that makes your chest hurt, hard to breathe, eyes stinging with bitter tears kind of lonely? It squeezes the soul out of you. And maybe you’re a person, but sometimes it’s like you’re a phantom, a ghost, a nothing.  
  
A nobody.  
  
You talk. No one listens. But you listen. You see. You watch. You know so much about everyone else but when it comes down to it, no one even remembers your birthday. Even though you’d tell them days, weeks, beforehand.  
Bitter doesn’t cover it. He sometimes thinks - believes - that there’s no word for it. Humans can’t express it in words. It’s impossible.  
  
_Click._  
  
The lid of the lighter flipped back over and clicked in place.  
He sat on the roof of his house, staring at a sunset that set the sky ablaze - pink and red and violet. Like the scar that comes after a burn. Or a bruise, maybe.  
The sight reminded him of some swingy 40’s jazz song he used to hear sometimes but couldn’t really place. Something about setting the world on fire.  
  
_Click._  
  
The lid flipped back out. His thumb struck against the wheel, feeling the crunch of the metal, the spark, the give, the flame.  
  
_Click._  
  
Fires are easy to start. Hard to extinguish.  
Maybe he was getting too philosophical. He looked down at the lighter in his hands before pocketing it.  
It was just one of those days where his chest hurt, like a hole was being dug through it. Messages he sent were left on read. No one felt like responding to his silent plea of “hey wanna hang?”  
It was... upsetting, to put it lightly. But he expected it by now. For his pleas to go unanswered. Such a simple request.  
  
_Please._  
It didn’t take any effort.  
_Help me._  
He didn’t need them to talk to him, just be there.  
_I can’t do this anymore._

_**I need someone.**_

Fists curled in his lap, shoulders hunched, teeth gritted, tears filling his eyes and spilling down his cheeks.  
The pit in his chest grows deeper when he acknowledges it. When he realizes no one wants him. No one had ever wanted him.  
  
Fires are so easy to start.  
Too hard to extinguish.  
  
Sometimes  
  
they needed  
  
a little  
  
force.


	2. Six Word Story: Old House. Low Rent. Not Haunted.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving in is hard.  
> Moving on is even harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh tbh? Sad, angsty Roxas is my hill to die on.  
> And. I will. Die on it.  
> Edit: went back through and corrected some grammar :)

**_Radiant Gardens - where you were destined to be!_ **

That’s what the sign said. That is, if you moved the overgrown bushes out of the way to read it. It was very pale with weathering and had obviously been made decades ago and somehow forgotten along the way. Which seemed to be the theme of this whole neighborhood in particular.

626 Bastion Hollow. A huge ass, old ass mansion. It was painted sky blue, something that his other siblings thought was just  _ lovely _ . But all Roxas could see was how  _ clean _ it looked in comparison to some of the other houses on the street - ones that were reddish brown and were peeling, with chipped paint, sagging front steps, and bare wreaths on the doors leftover from the holidays. It made him feel uneasy, even though he knew that most of the houses were just occupied by other college students, like himself and his siblings.

He supposed he should have started being more suspicious about everything at that point, but he decided to just ignore it. After all, Sora had just seemed so… happy about moving. The old place they were in was really shitty, and this was, regardless of any uneasiness, a huge step up in terms of living space.

The only thing that Roxas really,  _ really _ couldn’t get over was their rent. It was too low. They all knew it was too low. It was just  _ so _ suspicious. But after 3 tours of the house, none of them could really find a reason as to why. The house itself was in good shape and the renovation also made it an even better deal. But it just didn’t sit right.

He stood there, holding his laptop and a bunch of books in his arms with narrowed eyes staring at the front door.

“You okay, Rox?” Ven asked, picking up one of the many cardboard boxes at his feet. Roxas blinked, coming back to reality for a second.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. This house just gives me the creeps,” he said with a sigh. He knew that Ven had heard it a million times. His twin gave him a smile.

“We just need to take a smudge stick to it. You’ll get over it,” Ven told Roxas with a grin. He rolled his eyes. They didn’t even own a smudge stick.

The four of them - Roxas, Ven, Sora and Namine - all worked to get the things into the house. Getting things up to the rooms was a different matter entirely. Especially for Sora, who had so many belongings and little patience, so he mostly just floated around pretending to do work while the rest of them actually did something.

The landlady stopped by later that day. The woman wasn’t necessarily an airhead, per se, but she definitely didn’t seem….all there. The woman, named Aerith, was just  _ titillated _ to see all of them unpacking their belongings. She hadn’t been the one to conduct the tours, she was really only there for them to sign the paperwork at the end.

“It’s so nice to finally see someone move into this house again! It feels like it’s been forever since anyone has been here,” she said, and much like Sora she was just...buzzing around. Not here to help, but to watch. “People were so nervous to move in here you know, with all that  _ gossip _ . But I kept telling everyone it wasn’t true!”

His siblings, who were now spread out across the ground floor of the house didn’t seem to hear that part. Roxas, still in the foyer, certainly did.

“What kind of  _ gossip _ ?” he asked, shoulders tensing as he held a rather heavy box in his arms.

“Oh, well…” Aerith started with a small hum and looked around. “The reason we renovated was because we had a... _ small _ house fire awhile ago. One of the tenants was, uh....badly injured. Rumor got around that he had started the whole thing, that he was trying to, uh, well,  _ you know _ …”

“What? Kill everyone in the house?” Roxas demanded, nearly dropping the box he was holding so he put it back on the ground. “So this is a house with a history of  _ arson _ ? And what, some guy  _ died _ here?”

Aerith was giving him that look that retail employees get where they’re stuck between trying not to get fired but feeling pretty pissed off.

“There may or may not have been injuries caused by the accident. But the house is perfectly structurally sound, we’ve made sure of that. All of the history aside, it will be a lovely place to live,” she said with a tight enough smile Roxas thought if he pushed any further he might be the next person to die in this house.

“Hey, Roxas, they have one of those Harry Potter cupboards underneath the staircase!” Ven called over to him with a laugh, popping his head out around the staircase. His expression changed when he saw the dynamic between the landlady and his twin.

“I hope you all have good luck with your move! If you need anything, my number is on the fridge. Have a nice evening!”

And with that, the door was shut with a little more force than was probably necessary. Roxas just stood there staring at the door for a second.

“Dude, did you piss off the landlady already? You couldn’t have waited, like, a week before doing that? Come on,” Ven said, coming to stand on the other side of the box Roxas had been holding previously.

“Uhhhhh someone  _ died _ in this house, Ven! Someone  _ set it on fire _ ,” he exclaimed, arms gesturing to the spaciousness of the foyer. “It’s  _ full of ghosts _ . You  _ know _ it is.”

“Okay listen, all 100 year old houses are gonna have ghosts. It’s a scientific fact,” Ven told him. “People die all the time.”

“Ghosts?” Namine’s voice echoed faintly from the living room.

Sora’s voice could be heard distantly from the kitchen. “We got ghosts? Hell yeah, who ya gonna call!”

“Fuck off!” Roxas snapped back.

“That’s not who you call,” Sora’s disappointed mutter could barely be heard from where Roxas was standing.

“I knew you were superstitious but  _ damn _ , Rox,” Ven said with a shake of his head. “Honestly? Don’t worry about it. If there are ghosts, we’ll just go with our smudge stick idea.”

Ven snorted and Roxas narrowed his eyes at him, crossing his arms. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter to me. Let’s just finish moving these boxes, okay?”

Ven looked at him, like he always did, with this stare like he wanted to figure out what his brother was thinking, like he wanted to help but didn’t know how. So considerate.  _ Sheesh _ .

****

The four siblings were in their living room, surrounded by chinese food take out containers. The first thing they set up was the TV there with their gaming systems. Family movie nights and binge watching of TV shows instead of doing homework was a common occurrence. They were watching a documentary show about murder. Which Roxas, already being on edge about the subject of murder and ghosts, was made a little uncomfortable.

“How come you hate ghosts so much?” Namine asked. She really liked all the weird occult stuff. Collected feathers and bones when they were kids. How come she didn’t have a smudge stick?

“I just...they’re creepy, I dunno,” he said, leaning against the arm of the couch, cradling a box of lo mein like it was the most valuable thing he had. He looked down at the noodles and kind of had a jolt of sadness and maybe guilt twist his gut. “If you die then you should just… stay dead I guess.”

Namine, like Ven, just had this  _ way _ of looking at him that drove him absolutely insane. Like he was a problem that needed to be solved. He didn’t like it very much. He already felt like a problem compared to how easy and normal his siblings seemed.  _ Problem child _ . Being the middle sibling felt like that sometimes. So many expectations that were never met.

Roxas grew a little distant after the talk about death and ghosts. Death was so permanent. He really just wanted ghosts to be fake so he wouldn’t have to deal with the emotional part of it. Although,  _ she wouldn’t want to come back even if she could. _

He had effectively bummed himself out. And so, without any announcement, went to go up to his room.

Climbing the three or so flights of stairs, it really felt like his room was at the very top of the furthest tower, or however that fairytale shit went. In reality, it was just an attic loft room. The design of which he really enjoyed. The ceiling was slanted, presumably just the way the roof was at the back of the house. It was a little small, but it had a crazy big closet and it’s own private bathroom - which Roxas said he deserved because there was less insulation in the attic (which was a blatant lie, since the attic had been renovated and insulated properly, but he wasn’t going to admit it).

When they were touring, there had been a desk in the room, although now that Roxas really thought about it, there definitely seemed like there were scorch marks on the side of it. His desk was now in the same spot, with pieces of his PC littered over the surface. He’d put it together tomorrow. Or...a few days from now.

Motivation was not his strong suit.

He almost tripped over the corkboard he had propped against the wall, a little too closely to the door. It’s where he put up all of his memories of the past year. While Sora was all about objects, Roxas collected pieces of paper.

Ticket stubs, shitty photographs, pamphlets, convention badges, stickers he couldn’t bear to use. Handwritten birthday cards from friends from college that he couldn’t throw away, no matter how bad the handwriting was, how bad the drawings were or how last minute they looked. Roxas had nearly no organizational skills, so all these paper pieces were haphazardly pinned with thumbtacks to the corkboard. He attached it to the wall using velcro so every couple months or so he could rearrange the mess, add more things, and put it back up. He would put it up tomorrow. Probably.

He bent down and picked up a photo (one of many) that had fallen off the board and now laid on the floor. It was himself and a girl, dark haired, blue eyed, smiling.

_ Xion _ .

He felt a sudden pang of anger hit his gut, like hunger but worse. Painful. Heart wrenching. He resisted the urge to tear the photo apart, to crumple it up in his hands, stomp on it, set it on fire. Something that would make the memory go away. Once the photograph was gone, the memory would disappear too.

At least, that’s what he wished would happen.

Instead he got a thumbtack off the board and pinned the picture back where it had been - in the center of the board. He didn’t like looking at these pictures. But he honestly felt they were all he had left of her. Memories.

_ Tch _ . He shook his head, running his hands over his face. He was too sentimental for this.

Roxas pushed his open suitcase that was full of unfolded clothes onto the floor and climbed into bed. He curled up on the bare mattress, not really giving a second thought to whether or not he should actually make the bed before falling asleep. Not that he really had a right falling asleep before the sun had even set, but he was exhausted and felt like he deserved it - regardless of whether or not he woke up at 5am wide awake. More time to unpack.

He turned onto his side, shoving his face into his pillow, thankful for the new pillow cases he bought the day before. What an adult he was.

The window that was right next to his bed had a perfect view of the sunset, setting over the skyline of the suburban college town that they lived in. Highlighting the roofs of the other questionably old and undoubtedly haunted mansions that populated the area. 

A summer sunset, bright red, like blood. Like flames.

_ That night he dreamt he was on fire. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Insert John Mulaney "Now we don't have time to unpack all of that" gif here*  
>   
> Soooo this is the first fic i've ever written. Besides the fact that in middle school I tried my hand at Warriors fanfic, thinking I was the second coming of Erin Hunter (Now we REALLY don't have time to unpack all of that)  
> But thanks for everyone showing their interest!! It's anxiety inducing, but exciting to have people waiting to see my work. I haven't written creatively in a Long Ass time, so having encouragement is really great honestly!  
> Hope you guys are anticipating the next chapter too!  
> It's gonna be.......hot :^)


	3. Encounters of the Sixth Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sweet dreams are made of GHOSTS

Roxas had the same dream every night. A dream? No, it was definitely a nightmare.

Normally, he probably wouldn’t think that much of it, since he’s never really had nightmares or even remembered his dreams. So, he amounted it to stress. But this was so persistent, so terrifying. He would wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, remembering every single detail right down to the smoke smell that felt like it had singed the inside of his nose.

He’s in the same room, in the dream. In _this_ bedroom. He opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling. Everything feels like it’s in slow motion, sluggish. His limbs feel like weights, impossible to lift. He somehow swings he feet over the side of his bed, sitting up, head spinning. He could feel in his neck the physical _effort_ of lifting his head to look around the room.

After the third night, he tried to remember _more_ of the dream. The room, what it looked like. The walls were covered in band posters, a sleek crimson guitar sat in the corner of the room. The desk was covered in papers, scores, sheet music. The comforter was black with constellations on it. The sheets were flannel, soft.

In between the moments of trying to look at the room, his feet would touch the floor. The floor which was _burning_ to the touch. It seared the bottom of his feet.

There was a thin stream of smoke coming in from underneath the door. _Danger._ He knew. _Fire_. He stood, body swaying, eyes rolling back in his head for a moment. He walked across the floor regardless of the heat he felt, opening his bedroom door. Beyond the door he could hear shouts, pounding, thudding. Noises that weren’t formed into words.

His eyes blurred and stung with smoke as the door swung open and his arms came up to flop over his face. He opened his mouth to exclaim but choked on the air, coughing. He stumbled forward on to the landing right above the staircase that led downstairs. He could see smoke, the glow of a fire, flickers of shadows. Possibly people, maybe not. The noises still seemed so distant.

The buzz in his body, the feeling of urgency hummed underneath his skin, pushing his numbed body forward. _He had to keep moving_.

He stepped forward onto the first step below the landing and it was like the world gave way. There was an ear-splitting sound of wood cracking and splintering, his foot never felt solid ground. The staircase seemed to open into a wide, black mouth and he’s _falling_ , down, down, down, _down,_ stomach where his heart should be, arms outstretched upward as if he could catch himself. The air had left his lungs, eyes blurred with stinging tears, mouth open in a scream that felt like was being ripped from his chest -

And Roxas wakes up.

It’s like those dreams where you having the feeling of falling and you jolt awake, your heart pounding, but _you’re fine._ _You’re alive._ _In bed. Covered in sweat._

He was sitting bolt upright, his chest heaving with effort, mouth dry, throat squeezed tight. It had felt so real. His eyes darted around the room in a panic, looking for the signs of fire, smoke, but nothing was there. 

But maybe he was going crazy. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. This was night number three, now. And at this point, he was feeling a little fed up. He was reliving someone’s _death_. The thought of it made him so anxious he felt sick, hunching his shoulders and hugging himself for some sort of comfort.

He needed a shower.

He stood under the spray of hot water and felt a flash of panic for a moment - _the heat_ \- and he turned it to lukewarm. Which, arguably, is a terrible temperature for a shower but at least it didn’t remind Roxas of the feeling of _burning_. He didn’t know how long he was in there. He started dissociating a couple minutes in, body automatically following his normal routine.

Why was he having this dream? It felt like a memory almost. But it wasn’t _his_ memory. So...it was just a nightmare then. Or... _holy shit_.

Roxas felt a chill down his spine. The previous tenant. The fire they died in. These were their last memories. _That_ thought absolutely made him feel sick. He was hunched over the sink, half dressed, as a shudder ran over him. _That’s insane_.

He took his arm and wiped the condensation off of the mirror to clear it so he could actually see himself. As he did so, there was a flashing of vibrant red in the corner of his eye. He blinked, his arm breaking away from the mirror so his hand could rub at his eye. Whenever he got like this, riddled with insomnia, his eyesight was always muddled. When he looked up again, he caught what the flash of color was.

Along with his wide-eyed, horrified expression, reflected in the mirror was a person. And not even an apparition, a _whole ass person_. Flaming red hair, messy as sin, tied up in a bun. A loose black t-shirt with a distressed neckline that hung over his collarbones, sliding off a shoulder. Black jeans. And the greenest fucking eyes Roxas had ever seen. He was just... standing there. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking kinda pissed. Staring in the direction back into the bedroom.

Roxas couldn’t breathe. His hands were gripping the sides of the sink so hard his knuckles were white, palms stinging with effort. His eyes were locked on the figure of this...guy in his _fucking bathroom_ . His head snapped around to look where the figure _should_ be and - nothing. He turned back to the mirror and - nope.

There was nothing. Just him looking fucking terrified like the little bitch he was.

“Fuck this,” Roxas said out loud, voice definitely not trembling in any way. He rushed out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

 _I don’t believe in ghosts, I don’t believe in ghosts, I don’t believe in ghosts_ , he chanted to himself while getting dressed in a bit of a panic. His hands definitely weren’t shaking.

This is because they didn’t take a smudge stick to the house wasn’t it. This was just what he got for renting out a haunted fucking mansion wasn’t it. He sat down on the edge of his bed, reminding himself to unclench his jaw, since he could feel the fact he was grinding his teeth together.

Roxas just knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep in this room now. At least, for tonight. There was just an overwhelming feeling of unease. Like there was something out of place. 

He grabbed a blanket and his favorite pillow off his bed and proceeded downstairs. Sleeping on the couch it was.

 

Roxas was jolted out of sleep by the sharp whirring sound of a coffee grinder. Sunlight damn near blinded him as it streamed in through the large window beside the couch that looked out onto the street.

“Rough night?”

Roxas struggled to turn himself to face whoever was talking to him, having tangled himself up in his blanket. Ven was leaning over the back of the couch looking down at him, hair looking more of a mess than usual, having just woken up.

“My bedroom is _fucking haunted_!” Roxas roared, sitting up and nearly headbutting his twin. He slammed his hands down into his lap, which made no sound against the blanket he was wrapped in.

Ven laughed, standing up straight. “Yeah, right. You’re just being paranoid.”

Roxas, getting a little flustered now, forcibly untangled himself from his blanket and stood up, tripping over himself a bit. He spun back around and pointed an accusatory finger at his sibling.

“ _You_ weren’t there last night! You didn’t see what I saw! And that nightmare I’ve been having? It’s because of the ghost! It’s how he _died_!”

“Why is everyone yelling so early in the morning? Come on,” Sora said sleepily, slinking down the last few stairs in the foyer. His older brother had never been a morning person, evident by the mess of hair on his head and the imprint of sheet wrinkles still on his cheek.

“Roxas says we have ghosts,” Ven told the older brother as he sluggishly passed by.

“Yeah, of course,” Sora said in a deadpan, scratching his cheek. “Wouldn’t have rented this place out if it didn’t.”

Roxas glared daggers at the two of them. “Maybe it doesn’t matter to you two but I can’t fucking sleep in my own room.”

Ven sighed, watching as Sora slunk into the kitchen. “Listen, Rox, I hear ya. But it’s probably just your anxiety. You been keeping up with your meds?”

Roxas crossed his arms, shoulders slightly hunching. He hadn’t been taking his pills, but he knew it wasn’t the problem. Ven watched his body language and understood as much. But Ven gave him the look he always did, which mirrored the look his parents always gave when they didn’t understand why Roxas was the way he was.

 _Problem child_.

“At least give it a week, okay? Maybe it’ll get better,” Ven told him gently, delicately, softly - talking to him like he was a child. 

Roxas’ fingers dug into his arms where they were and he clenched his jaw. There would be no point in getting angry about it. No point starting a fight like this, especially in the morning.

“Fine,” he gritted out, looking away from Ven and through the window looking outside. The neighborhood was dead in the morning, too. There weren’t even any cars on the road.

Hesitantly, Roxas followed Ven into the kitchen to where Sora was preparing coffee. Not that Roxas drank coffee, because he reached into the fridge and grabbed one of the (many) energy drinks that were in there.

“Rox, it’s 9 in the morning. Why can’t you just drink orange juice or something?” Sora asked. Roxas looked him directly in the eye as he opened the can.

“9am is energy drink breakfast time,” he said with a shrug. That at least got a laugh out of Ven.

Sora gave him a look that was somewhere between disgust and concern, and without saying anything he slowly turned back to the coffeemaker. Roxas sipped his drink, which this morning tasted like a radioactive tangerine. Delicious. He mostly just after the 120mg or so of caffeine.

The day would go on the way it usually did. Sora would be off to the local high school, getting back to work at his job of being the Most Inspirational Guidance Counselor of All Time (a self-established title). 

The other three of them were in college, Ven and Roxas being in grad school, so they had fewer classes, but were drowned in homework. Naminé took all of her classes in the morning so she could come home and work on her two different theses. So efficient and studious. Roxas resented that a bit, considering he felt he had half-assed his own.

It was also the start of a new semester, so Roxas was positively drowning in new textbooks, which were now piling up on his desk, leaving little room for his computer. And he already had two assignments due in a couple weeks, but he hadn’t even picked up any of the books yet. He was still too distracted by the whole situation regarding his bedroom. Although being behind on his work was not a good idea. He had at least three essays he should be writing.

Roxas didn’t have classes that day. So, he stood at the doorway of his room looking in. Like a person who stands at the threshold of a church because he’s afraid he’ll instantaneously combust. Yeah, exactly like that. He gave a cautious look around, as if the ghost was still there or something.

His weapon of choice? A bowl of salt.

He had done some hesitant googling about ghosts and tried to watch videos on youtube that weren’t absolute clickbait. Managed to find a few videos about spirits made by pagans who filmed their videos with a camera that was manufactured circa 2003. _Seriously, why are all those videos the same terrible quality and sound like they’re being filmed underwater?_

Nothing about what he experienced meant that Roxas had encountered a _violent_ spirit. Just… an annoying one? _A hot one_. He rolled his eyes at his own thought process, eyes staring up at his ceiling. What the fuck was he even doing anyway?

He sprinkled salt around the room. Which, he knew he would have to deal with later because he knew he definitely wasn’t going to vacuum it back up.

After the whole affair, Roxas stood outside on the small balcony just outside the glass door that led back into his room. Now he was just really out of it, eyes focused on nothing, brain feeling like mush; a normal state of being when he was in a depressive episode, honestly. A lit cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth with little purpose as he just...stared blankly at the opposite wall that had been newly adorned with a poster of that shitty _Edward II_ movie that had come out. It spoke to the sad gay in him. His right hand fidgeted with his lighter.

 _Click_.

Roxas wasn’t that superstitious, honestly. But he trusted his gut and the weird shit he had seen. He knew he couldn’t just ignore it. He felt the lighter’s flame against his finger.

 _Click_.

It was common sense to be afraid of the paranormal, he told himself. No one wants to sleep in a room someone died in. That’s shit’s fucked up.

 _Click_. He struck a flame, put it out again.

He sighed, cigarette falling from his mouth onto the concrete at his feet. He bent to pick it up with a groan of annoyance.

“Fuck this shit, seriously,” Roxas said, crushing the half burned cigarette into the ground.

“What, _you’re_ pissed off? You’re the one in _my_ room.”

Roxas froze where he was. He slowly lifted his head up, in the direction of where the voice came from.

It was the guy he saw last night. He was _right fucking there_. Just standing there! Looking at Roxas with a disdainful expression, which slowly shifted to a smirk.

“A salt ring just for me? Gee, thanks.”

Roxas knew his mouth was agape, he probably looked like an idiot - which shouldn’t matter because he was hallucinating, obviously. He forced himself to stand up.

“I’m just going crazy, right? You’re not real?” Roxas said to the guy, who snorted and pushed himself off the edge of the desk he was leaning against.

“Probably not. But you can see me. And hear me. So that’s a nice change at least.”

He walked over to where Roxas was, just inside the doorframe, beyond the salt ring. They held eye contact for a moment, Roxas nearly squirming under the guys; _unnervingly_ green eyes. Ghost man brushed his black boot through the salt line on the ground. The salt actually moved and -  _What the fuck! Salt doesn’t work! Witches are liars! And ghosts are real???_

He says something, he watches his lips move, the guy extends a hand. Roxas misses what he says, distracted by, uh… his face. The ghost face. He really was pretty attractive, unfortunately.

“W-what?” he stuttered, feeling his face flush. The guy raised an eyebrow at him, emphasizing the outstretched hand.

“I’m Axel,” he told him slowly, grabbing Roxas’ hand and shaking it much to his shock. “Got it memorized?”

Their hands were still connected, Roxas staring down at them. This wasn’t normal.

“Uh...I’m Roxas,” he said, a bit weakly.

“Pft, _Roxas?_ ” Axel scoffed, releasing the handshake. “That’s a fucking name, huh. Can I just call you Roxy? I think it’s better.”

“What? Your name is _Axel,_ and no! Don’t call me that,” Roxas snapped. Axel grinned at him.

“I think this is a perfect beginning to our very own indie budget version of _The Haunted Mansion_ , Roxy.”

Roxas ran a hand over his face, muttering under his breath, “I hated that movie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very sorry how long it took me to post this!! I wanna try and get these chapters out faster but I'm SUCH a slow writer D: I promise I'll actually bring other characters in next chapter but I have so much exposition to do first lmao


	4. Burn After Summoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you're not gonna believe this.jpeg

 

Roxas was sitting in the university coffee shop that sat inside the library building, staring at a chai latte he had ordered, completely forgetting to ask for it iced. He burned his tongue. It was the least of his problems though.

“Holy shit, Rox, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Oh, how he wished he could have laughed.

“Hayner, you’re not gonna fucking believe this,” Roxas said weakly, moving his gaze up to look up at his best friend, sometimes boyfriend, sometimes his whatever-you-wanna-call-it. “My room is haunted.”

Hayner blinked at him. Then, in his usual fashion, burst out laughing loud enough to make everyone in the cafe glance over for a moment before going back to ignoring them. Roxas immediately felt the embarrassment color his face. He grabbed Hayner’s arm and pulled him as hard as he could into the chair opposite of him. He played along, plopping down and looking back at Roxas with what was barely-contained amusement. After Roxas’ grim expression didn’t change, his smile faltered a bit.

“You wanna tell me what’s  _ actually _ the problem, or are we gonna keep this bit going?” Hayner asked, cocking his head to the side, now staring intently at Roxas who now avoided his gaze by staring at his computer instead.

Roxas had a Wikipedia article up about astral projection with vocabulary that sounded ridiculous enough his brain was practically melting out his ears.

“Have you heard of astral projection?” Hayner guffawed. Roxas closed his laptop and leaned forward, feeling kind of pissed. “No! Listen, dude, something insane is happening you  _ have _ to believe me.”

  
  
  


It was the day before this meeting in the cafe and Roxas was sitting on his bed. Uncomfortable. The silence was stifling, to say the least. But he just didn’t know what to fucking say. Mr. Axel the Red Haired Surprisingly Hot Friendly Ghost was sitting in his desk chair, poking around the books he had on the desk.

“Soooooooooooo, what do you  _ do _ , exactly?” the ghost man asked, shooting Roxas a look with a cocked eyebrow, holding an anthology of rather homoerotic plays written by Euripides.

Roxas made a face. _What does that even mean?_ “Uh, well, I’m a student. I do…..uh, philosophy stuff? Lots of reading. And existential thinking and crises and the like I guess.” He just shrugged.

“You have a whole lot of crises? Is that what kids do nowadays?” Roxas snorted.

“I’m sorry, am I supposed to believe you died sometime in 1950? You don’t look any older than I am.”

“Dead?” Axel blanched, looking hurt. He put the book back on the desk - Roxas was almost positive he put it down with the picture of the nude male statue on the cover in full display on purpose. “I’m not  _ dead _ , I’m just…I don’t know. I’m in a weird spot in life right now, okay?”

“Uh, yeah, totally, me too. I’m in such a weird spot that I have a fucking ghost talking to me right now,” Roxas said in the most mocking tone he could muster. He paused for a brief moment. “Isn’t that a thing with all ghosts though? They just don’t believe they’re dead or whatever? Maybe that’s your problem.”

Axel looked pissed when he said that. He stared intently down at his hands, a sneer on his face.

“I’m not dead,” he repeated firmly, hands locked together tightly in his lap. Roxas was suddenly struck with an overwhelming feeling of pity.

_ What was he supposed to say? What do you say to cheer up a ghost?  _ That sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.

Roxas shifted on his bed, suddenly feeling antsy. Anxiety. He was buzzing, full of bees. One part of his brain was telling him to quickly google on his phone how to communicate with the dead when they were living in your bedroom but something told him that wasn’t going to yield too many results. He was chewing on the inside of his lip, trying to find something to say.

“So, listen, Axel,” Roxas started slowly, looking at his closed (and locked) door. “I’ve been having this dream. I was wondering...if it’s what happened to you?”

Axel got up very quickly and moved towards Roxas, grabbing his shoulders. Roxas jolted, the sensation of his hands on his shoulders was surprising. Like when they shook hands earlier, his hands were... _ solid _ . It was weird, Roxas kind of hated the way it made his stomach twist.

Axel was so close now, his green eyes were so fucking  _ bright _ \- Roxas could think of a million shitty ways to describe it and not a single eloquent way - and boring into his own.

“You see it too? Tell me everything,” he demanded, a little breathlessly. Roxas felt his face heat up, just from proximity. He wasn’t used to people this close to his face, let alone…ghost people. He could smell the faint scent of cigarettes on Axel, but it was the kind of smell where it was warm, sunk into someone’s clothes. Roxas can’t ever place why exactly he likes that smell so much he just does, okay?

Roxas, shoving aside his gay panic, recounted the nightmare he had been having every night since moving in. Going over every detail as he remembered it. As he talked Axel sat down directly next to him, still leaning over him in a strangely intimidating way. Axel was so much taller than he was, he realized.

“That’s...yeah. That’s it,” Axel finally said after Roxas had finished. He looked… excited, maybe? Reassured.

“Can I just ask, uh…” Roxas started and then lost his words for a moment when Axel made eye contact with him again. “If you see that too, then how can you...uh, it’s just that if you see that why do you think you’re  _ not _ dead?”

“Hm.” Axel furrowed his brow a bit, narrowing his eyes for a moment. “I dunno. Gut feeling, I guess. I’m just like, 90% sure I’m not dead.”

Roxas tried not to let the pity show on his face but Axel saw his expression anyway and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t have to believe me. Just google astral projection or something,” Axel said.

Roxas pulled out his phone and the second he looked back up, Axel was just...gone. The faint smell of smoke hung in the air. Roxas extended his hand and swatted at the air beside him.  _ Gone _ . He felt unease curl in his stomach, making his shoulders tense.

“What the fuuuuuuck.”

  
  


Hayner just stared at him. He looked speechless, confused, like he wanted to laugh but wouldn’t. He shifted back in his chair for a moment and then leaned over the table to meet Roxas in the middle.

“Listen dude, are you like, on something?” he asked in a low voice.

“I’m not  _ on _ anything,” Roxas snapped back. “I’m not fucking kidding.”

Hayner let out a breath and scratched the back of his head. “Have you told anyone else? Cuz no offense, you better keep that shit on lock or they’re gonna lock you up, you know?”

Roxas slumped in the armchair he sat in. “No, I haven’t told anyone. I didn’t know who to even tell. No one was gonna believe me.”

“Oh, what, and you thought I would? Bruh,” Hayner made a face at him. And then his expression changed as he stared over Roxas’ shoulder at the door of the cafe. “Oh, hey, run this by Pence I’m sure he’ll  _ love _ it. He’s always into cryptids and shit.”

Roxas sunk even lower into his chair, the feeling of absolute stupidity resting heavy on his shoulders. He could think of a million ways to describe how he sounded and they were all synonyms of  _ crazy _ .

“Hayner, aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Olette asked, sitting down in the seat on Roxas’ right. Pence took the chair on the left.

“I’m playing hooky, it’s whatever,” Hayner said, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“You can’t play hooky from work, Hayner. That’s how you get  _ fired _ ,” Olette reminded him with less patience than usual. Having just been fired from his last job, the group of them were constantly reminding their friend that work required one to be…at work. Hayner seemed to forget or ignore this fact often.

“Chill out, my boss let me go early,” Hayner said, and his lips didn’t even twitch so Roxas knew he wasn’t lying this time. Unfortunately, he continued. “Anyway, I needed to come help Roxas with his existential crisis.”

“Wow, again? So soon too,” Pence said in a deadpan. He was referencing last week, when Roxas had a bit of a breakdown over his final essay even though it still wasn’t due for another month.

It took a lot of willpower for Roxas not to react to that. “It’s not even that big of a deal, okay?”

“Oh, no, I think it’s a  _ huge _ deal, Roxas!” Hayner said with feigned sincerity. He placed his hands on the table, folded, and put on his best Youth Pastor expression. “Our boy has a  _ ghost _ problem.”

“Oh cool!” Pence said. Of course that’s what he said. Olette looked less impressed.

“Like...seriously?” she asked, poking her glasses back up her nose.

Roxas looked back at Olette with a pained expression. “I’m not crazy, there’s just a ghost person in my room and I dunno it’s weird.”

“What’s he look like?” Hayner asked. Oh, right, he hadn’t told him that.

“Uh...he’s tall, red haired, green eyes.”  _ Pretty hot _ is what Roxas almost said. Although he still had very mixed feelings about finding an apparition attractive. “His name is Axel.”

The three other people at the table made exactly the kind of face Roxas expected. They all looked varying degrees of extremely concerned.

“You know, I just shouldn’t have said anything. Just pretend I made the whole thing up,” Roxas insisted, taking his laptop and sliding it into his backpack.

Olette reached out instinctively towards him but stopped short of grabbing his arm.

“Hey, it’s not like we’re trying to tell you you’re wrong or something. It’s just… pretty weird, Rox.”

“Honestly, I’m super interested. Can we meet the guy?” Pence asked and judging by his yelp that followed, Olette kicked him under the table. “What? You don’t meet actual ghosts every day!”

“The thing is though,” Roxas started, but stopped again. The three of his friends stared intently at him. “Nevermind.”

“Oh, come on, just spit it out. If you’re gonna tell us this much you might as well tell us everything, okay?” Hayner said, now being the one to nudge his shin under the table. Roxas sighed, crawling himself back into an upright position, feeling his spine snap back into place.

“He doesn’t think he’s dead. He kept telling me last night how he knows he didn’t die. But I know what happened to him and it just seemed like… super obvious he died.”

“Spirits are always in denial,” Pence agreed in a very serious voice. Roxas thought he looked very funny when he had a serious expression on his face, but at this point he was appreciating his demeanor. “It’s like, totally a thing with ghosts who get caught in death loops and stuff. Oh shit, Rox! You got caught in his death loop! Fucking wild.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I guess I did?” He hadn’t realized that.  _ Death loop _ was something he had read on wikipedia. “Wait, but a ghost can’t stray randomly out of their death loop, right? Besides, it’s not like I watched him go through it all. I’ve just been seeing it in dreams.”

“Please, Roxas, don’t give Pence the drive to go information digging on ghosts, he  _ needs _ to work on his programming project,” Olette begged him. Pence was already taking out his computer.

“It’s not that big of a deal, honestly! I’m at least 50% done with it and I still have 2 days. It’s fine,” Pence assured everyone at the table, most of all, himself.

Roxas didn’t understand anything about computer science, but knew that Pence had a disturbingly easy time understanding computers. Olette was just concerned because she was always drowned with experiments and projects, considering her focus was biochemistry. The two of them were the only people in this friend group with brain cells, Roxas was sure. Hayner didn’t have any because of his “recreational” drug use and Roxas didn’t have any because he had been a literature major in college.

“It’s fine, Pence. Besides, I’ve been reading a lot of stuff on my own anyway,” Roxas told him pushing his laptop gently off the table. “You should probably do your work.”

“ _ You _ should probably do  _ your _ work,” Olette reprimanded him. Roxas shrugged.

“Yeah probably.”

“Nah, I say don’t do anything and just drop out,” Hayner said, leaning back in his chair. That’s what he always said. Roxas had considered it many, many, many times. But ultimately, he didn’t.

Ven always convinced him to stay.

The four of them kept talking, ultimately moving completely off of the topic of Roxas’ ghost problem, which he was very thankful for. They all got up to leave once the clock tower in the middle of town started to chime, letting everyone know it was 6 o’clock.

“Have fun with your ghost boyfriend!” Pence said with a little more enthusiasm than Roxas think that statement deserved. He didn’t know what to say in response so he just gave a half-hearted wave.

“Hey, ghostbuster, let me drive you home,” Hayner said, pulling up beside him as he stepped into the elevator to go down to the parking lot. Olette and Pence lived on campus in the apartments there, while Roxas and Hayner lived in town.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Roxas said. It made him nervous when Hayner drove him home. Usually it meant they were going to have a serious talk. Or that Hayner wanted to take him home, for, uh, recreational activities. Unfortunately Roxas wasn’t really in the mood for either of these options.

Hayner allowed him to hook his phone up to the aux cord, which was another sign that something wasn’t quite right. Roxas put on the only playlist he knew Hayner didn’t completely hate.

“Should I be worried about you.” A statement. Not a question.

_ Oh no, it’s a serious talk _ .

Roxas fidgeted with his phone, staring out the window. His heart was suddenly racing. Yikes. His brain was flying through what this conversation was going to be.

“Um, no, I don’t think so. I’m… good right now. Just kinda weirded out,” Roxas replied, eyes glancing over at Hayner, whose gaze was locked on the road in front of him.

“We never talked about Xion,” Hayner said. He was right. They hadn’t. “And sometimes, that worries me, y’know?”

Roxas was realizing how hard this conversation was for Hayner. Roxas had a rather sordid past regarding mental illness and suicidal tendencies, and after Xion there were a few… close calls. Hayner had been there the whole time for all of it too. 

Fuck, he felt bad about it.

“I’m sorry,” Roxas blurted suddenly. They were at a stop light. Hayner just gave him a confused look.

“For what?”

“I...I just never apologized for what I put you through. You shouldn’t have had to handle me like that. It wasn’t your responsibility.”

“Responsibility?” Hayner exclaimed. “What the fuck, dude, I just didn’t want you to fucking die. Don’t fucking apologize for shit like that, you have nothing to be sorry for. You needed someone and I was there for you it’s the least I could have fucking done.”

Hayner cursed the most when he got emotional, Roxas knew. The two of them just stared at each other until the person behind them laid on the horn for Hayner to go, since the light had turned green.

“Thank you,” Roxas said quietly. Hayner just shrugged in an exasperated way.

“I don’t know where the fuck I’d be if it weren’t for you, Roxas. So, fucking jot that down the next time you wanna feel guilty about something,” Hayner told him, jabbing him in the arm with his finger.

They were at the house. The two of them sat there now, in silence since Roxas had turned off the music. Roxas never knew what to do at this point. He hated these moments. They were always so close to  _ something _ .

One time Hayner and him were trashed at some house party in undergrad and Hayner had pressed Roxas against the side of a fridge, leaning over him, and yelled over the music, “What would you do if I said I loved you?”

Roxas hadn’t known what to say. He had kissed him. They fucked. And then they didn’t speak for three months after that.

He felt a lot of their relationship was similar to that memory.

Hayner turned to look at him. “Just take it easy for once, alright? And do your fucking homework.”

Roxas laughed for the first time that day, grinning at Hayner. “Hearing that from you is really rich, you know.”

“I know.”

Hayner kissed him. Roxas’ brain took a second to catch up, but yeah, alright, that’s fine, wow. His hand came up brushed through Roxas’ hair, something that was such a shockingly gentle thing for him to do and it almost always caught Roxas off guard. It made his heart hurt, longing for something Hayner never wanted to give him.

He was the first to pull away. He usually was. Hayner always looked so serious in the moment after, before catching himself and looking away. He couldn’t figure out what he was doing either.

“Have a good night, okay?” Hayner told him, sitting back straight up in his seat.

“Yeah, you too,” Roxas responded maybe a little breathier than was necessary. He slid out of Hayner’s truck into the driveway and closed the door, shooting him one last glance over his shoulder before he got to the front door. Before he got inside he heard Hayner’s speakers start blasting rock music before he drove away at a speed that was easily worthy of a speeding ticket.

Roxas closed the house door behind him, pressing his back against it. He had a feeling the minutiae of his life was becoming… overly complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am ACTUALLY so sorry this chapter has been sitting, FINISHED, on my computer for two months now probably. and IM SORRY because I actually thought I had posted it already so whoopsie daisy i guess lol.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is heavily inspired by Medium by Rox3l. I was really interested in the premise of that fanfic, and it's honestly a shame that the author was unable to continue writing it. So, inspired by their plot, I wanted to take a crack at it for myself!
> 
> Also, as with any Axel/Roxas fic, Intertia Creeps was involved somewhere along the line here.


End file.
